Kiss & Cry
by marvelous chat
Summary: Marinette has one goal in life - stand on the Olympic podium with a gold medal around her neck. Through blood, sweat, and tears, she'll inch her way closer to her dream as she juggles school life and her affections between Junior National Champ Adrien Agreste and Luka Couffaine, dance student by day, rock star by night. (Sorry for the mixup! This is a Teen story, not M!)
1. Chapter 1

Five AM always came too early.

Though, even if she wasn't a skater, Marinette would still have to rise early to help out at the bakery. The universe deemed it necessary she would be an early riser, even though her body seemed to enjoy being a night owl more.

She groaned and reached for her cell phone. After tapping snooze, she opened up Instagram. "Good morning, Adrien!" she greeted as she pulled up his story. His black cat, Plagg, laid across his face, meowing loudly. The caption read _Plagg's favorite place to sleep is my face ?_

She giggled. Despite also being a student of Thames & Lawrence, Adrien lived at home instead of the dorms. She didn't blame him; his father was a fashion designer and he lived in a mansion, complete with a butler. Who would leave that life for a tiny cramped dorm room with dull white walls?

She took a slow breath as she sat up. Pain radiated from her core. Hardly a day passed without some sort of ache or pain to go along with it. The cold hardwood floor soothed her sore and red feet as she walked to her closet. "I wonder what color I should wear today?" she muttered.

Ninety percent of her wardrobe consisted of exercise wear, mostly rinkwear – snug black pants, some with pops of color accents on the bottom that went over her skates, most plain, and long sleeve shirts that fit tight enough not to impede movement but not loose enough to impede in the air. Bright colors looked cute at first, but after a couple of falls those cute colors turned mortifyingly wet. She did allow herself a bit of variety in her shirts, but for her first day on the ice at T&L she wanted to portray a serious side to her, so she picked a plain muted dusky pink.

She smiled and took a quick selfie, slapped a "good morning!" sticker on it, and sent it to her parents. They were so busy with the morning rush that they didn't usually reply until after lunch, but she still sent them a selfie every morning since moving away. Thankfully the rink was only a ten minute walk from the dorms. She got a little extra sleep a night not having a forty minute commute.

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

"Morning, Marinette!" Nino called as he jogged over.

"Morning," Marinette replied with a yawn.

"Excited about your first day?"

She nodded. "I couldn't sleep well last night because I was so nervous."

"Don't worry about it! It's just like every other ice rink out there, you know?"

Actually, it wasn't like every other ice rink out there. You couldn't apply to T&L for admission; they contacted you. And they only took on a handful of new students every year. The first time they called her she thought it was an elaborate prank set up by her best friend, Ayla.

Nino opened the door for her. The cold air hitting her face banished the last bit of sleepiness. Ice time was precious and valuable. Even though T&L only had a handful of skaters, it still had to be divided between them and they still had to attend school classes in the afternoon. It was show time.

Nino patted her back. "Well, I'm doing off-ice workout this morning, so I'll see you in class! Good luck!"

"Thanks!" She waved goodbye and started making her way to the ladies' locker room.

"Hey, Adrien! What's up?"

Marinette froze.

She knew he attended the same school. Same program. Same place. But despite that, she still hadn't registered that she would actually see him. Hear him. And even _talk_ to him. A hot flush crept up her neck.

"Is that the new girl?" Adrien asked.

 _He's talking about me. Adrien Agreste is talking about me._ She took a shallow breath. She had to get moving. No one stood frozen in place like a freak. Right foot, go! Nothing. Fine. Left foot, go! Nothing. _Marinette, you need to get moving before-_

"Oh, yeah! You haven't met her yet because you don't live in the dorms. Hey, Marinette! Wait!"

She stopped mid-step and turned on her heels, with a broad unnatural smile on her face. "What's going on, Nino?" she asked, voice flat and robotic.

"You need to meet Adrien. He doesn't live in the dorms with the rest of us."

"Oh really?" Marinette forced a chuckle. "Lucky!"

"I wish I did. It gets lonely at home," Adrien replied as he stuck out his hand. "Adrien Agreste."

Marinette put her hand in his. _His hand is so big compared to mine! And it's warm!_ "M-M-Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"

He laughed. "M-M-Marinette, huh?"

Nino playfully punched his shoulder. "Hey, don't be hard on her. It's her first day."

"I've heard of you. You attempted a quad last competition, right?"

 _He's heard of me?_

She giggled and scratched the top of her head. "Hehe, yeah, didn't really work out for me though."

"You can do it! You don't usually even see a woman attempting it in competition. That's pretty cool."

 _Pretty cool..._ It took every fiber of being inside Marinette not to scream in delight. "Thanks! I try! Get a lot of bruises though!"

He laughed. "Don't we all? Good luck!"

"See you around, Marinette!" Nino said as he and Adrien walked away together.

Marinette watched their backs until they rounded the corner. _Adrien. Agreste. Talked. To. Me!_ She took her phone out of her pocket and opened up Messenger as she scampered to the locker room.

 **Ladybug:** AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaa

 **VelvetFox:** Whhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt why are you screaming

 **Ladybug:** ADRIEN TALKED TO ME!

 **Ladybug: [screaming]**

 **VelvetFox** : What did he say?

 **Ladybug** : HE SAID PRETTY COOL

 **VelvetFox** : Um, what's pretty cool?

 **Ladybug** : ME

 **Ladybug:** ME HE SAID ME

 **Ladybug** : HE SAID I WAS PRETTY COOL

 **Ladybug** : CUZ I CAN JUMP A QUAD

 **Ladybug** : and and and he told me good luck!

 **VelvetFox** : So did you invite him out for coffee or something

 **Ladybug** :

 **Ladybug** :

 **Ladybug** :

 **VelvetFox** : You stood there and giggled.

 **Ladybug** : how dare you call me out like that

 **VelvetFox** : **[eyeroll]**

 **VelvetFox** : YOU NEED TO MAKE THE FIRST MOVE

 **Ladybug** : WHAT IF HE SAYS NO

 **VelvetFox** : WHAT IF HE SAYS YES

 **Ladybug** : IF I ASKED HIM OUT THE FIRST TIME I MET HIM IRL HE WILL THINK I'M A CREEPER

 **VelvetFox** : YOU GET PUSH NOTIFICATIONS WHENEVER HE POSTS ON INSTAGRAM, TWITTER, AND SNAPCHAT

 **Ladybug** : . . .

 **Ladybug** : It's time for me to get on the ice. Gotta go!

Her phone dinged several more times with messages, but she didn't bother checking them. The problem of developing a relationship - friendship - with Adrien could wait. When push came to shove, the ice superseded everything else. It had to. No one realized Olympic dreams without sacrificing everything to it.

Putting skates on with just the right amount of tension was an art unto itself. Too loose would ruin landings and too tight would constrict the feet and cause a lot of pain while both skating and landing. She slid the guards over the bottom and walked out to the rink.

The rink seemed empty compared to the one back home. T&L kept class sizes so small that she shared the rink with one other person her age, Kagami Tsurugi. Kagami worked with a different coach though. Marinette knew her briefly from competitions. They were neck-and-neck last competition before she failed her quad. Kagami didn't so much as acknowledge her on the ice. She looked as intensely focused as she did when they met in competition on the ice. So much for greeting her. Marinette didn't want to break that razor-sharp focus.

She strode on, doing a playful twirl in glee.

"You seem energetic this morning! Good!"

Marinette stopped and turned around slowly. Caline Bustier skated towards her, coming to a stop just in front of her. She held out her hand. "Always good to see an enthusiastic face in the morning."

Caline Bustier, one half of a pairs team that won two gold medals. She retired last year to focus on coaching. "Good morning!" Marinette greeted. "It's an honor to be your student, really."

Bustier smiled. "Thank you, but you're too much. In my heart, I'm just a girl who loves skating, just like you." She skated backward a bit. "I'm going to have you do some drills today so I can get an idea of your strengths and weaknesses. By tomorrow, I'll have your plan for the season developed."

"Okay!"

"Right, and so, to start..."

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

"Ah, Marinette! How'd your first day go?" Luka asked as Marinette walked in the door. She scrunched her nose a bit and giggled, saying nothing but her beaming smile told him everything. She truly was too adorable for words sometimes. It was hard to believe that the spritely girl in front of him was one of the world's leading candidates for the Olympic team. Only a year younger than him, but another universe ahead. She inspired him to work harder every time he saw her.

"Looks like I'm the first one to show up again, huh?" She put her pink bag in the corner.

"I don't mind." Truly, he didn't. In fact, he rather enjoyed the private time with her before class. The only thing that would make it better would be if he got to see her every day instead of twice a week.

"How's the band going?"

"We're working on a new song right now. Probably going to give it a test drive this Saturday."

"Oh?" She seemed to perk up.

"Yeah. It's at Belle Vie though."

She sighed. "When are you going to play somewhere I can legally go?"

He chuckled. "Technically I'm not legally able to go either. My mates keep it on the downlow."

"Record it for me?"

He smiled. "Always."

"Ballet dancer by day, rockstar by night... I can barely manage skating. I don't know how you juggle both."

"Well, one I use my legs and the other I use my fingers."

She snorted a laugh. "You know what I meant."

The door dinged and two girls walked in. He fought the sigh that welled in his chest. Time with Marinette went by too fast. "Hey, Mylène and Rose!" he greeted.

"Luka!" they said in unison as they set their things down. Mylène put her hand on her hip. "And Marinette, always first. How was T&L?"

"Amazing," she gushed. The three sat down and started lacing their shoes.

"Did you get to meet Adrien?" Rose asked.

Luka tried to casually untie and lace his shoes as he eavesdropped. He'd heard Marinette mention an Adrien before, but when he tried to find out more information she became abruptly mum on the subject.

Marinette's voice became a tad bit higher and he could see the back of her neck growing red. Okay, whoever this Adrien was, she had quite a reaction to his name. But why would meeting him be such a big deal?

"Y-yeah! I did! It's so crazy, going to the same school as him!"

Luka furrowed his brows.

"Was he as charming in real life as he is on TV?"

TV? Maybe he was an actor? But why would Marinette cross paths with an actor?

"Even more so," Marinette replied, burying her face in her knees. Rose and Mylène leaned forward and spoke in a quieter tone. Luka craned his neck, trying to catch it.

"So, what happened? Did you tell him?" Mylène asked.

Marinette shook her head wildly.

 _Oh._ Luka's heart sank. Whatever that Adrien was, Marinette had a crush on him. He sighed as he finished tying his shoes. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone, doing a search for "Adrien figure skater". Photos of a blonde hair green eyed boy filled his screen. _Oh._ His chest throbbed in pain. Adrien was quite obviously the opposite of him.

 _So that's Marinette's type._ He scrolled through more images. In addition to being a figure skater, he seemed to also be a model, even having his own cologne. Maybe it was just a crush on a celebrity? Lots of girls had those, hell, even he had his own celeb crushes. And in any case, there was no guarantee Adrien would notice her. There were even rumors of him being connected to some reality TV socialite named Chloé. He still had a chance if he would make a move.

Easier said than done.

A couple more girls trickled in and he put his phone away. Class came first. The money he made teaching a hybrid dance class paid for his tuition at Lille Opera Academia and at the moment, that was more important than nursing his crush on a certain figure skater.

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

Luka's class was one of the things Marinette looked forward to every week and it was always over too soon. Dancing was one of the extra exercises that helped her skating the most. Bustier complimented her on her expression and footwork, and she knew it was due to the lessons with him. That was something her old coach never complimented her on, and the offseason she spent a lot of time dancing under his tutelage. He was such a sweet guy too. Whether he was a rock star or ballet star, she had a feeling he would be famous. He just had that sort of aura.

Maybe the day's jitters or excitement hadn't worked through her entirely, but she found herself full of energy. There was a shopping mall on the way back to the dorms, maybe she could go and window shop a bit before bed.

She gasped as she walked in the side entrance. The ice rink opened early this year! She didn't have her skates, but she couldn't do any sort of tricks on the local rink anyway. There were too many people. It was a nice way to relax and skate, without worrying about routines.

"Maybe I can skate instead of shopping," she muttered. She walked to the front desk. "Excuse me, can I get a student pass?"

"Can I see your ID?"

Marinette handed it over.

The front girl gasped. "You really are Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"

Marinette blinked. "Umm, yes?"

"I saw your program last spring! You almost had that quad!"

Marinette nervously chuckled. "I bit off a little more than I could chew... but I'll get it this season, watch!"

"Can I take your photo? Once people see a famous skater like you comes here, we'll have a full house every night!"

"Umm, sure?" She put on a smile and waited as the girl took a photo.

"Thanks!"

"Umm, sorry, but I need to rent a pair of skates too. I saw you guys happened to open early and decided to stop by."

"Oh! Well, I'm sure they're not as good as your personal ones, but we have some skates here. What's your size?"

Marinette was thankful when the girl handed her a pair of skates and she could leave the awkward exchange. She only seemed to get recognized by die-hard skate fans and she never knew how to respond to it. She wasn't famous, she wasn't even that special. She was a girl who decided to change her program at the last minute and attempt a jump she only nailed thirty percent of the time in practice and tumbled from second place to last.

At least her guts earned her a spot at T&L. Silver lining, right?

There was a Christmas tree and presents in the center of the rink. Marinette wrinkled her nose. It wasn't even past Halloween yet! Maybe they did it to get people thinking about winter? All it seemed to do was remind her that it was too early to think of Christmas stuff, _and she liked Christmas._

There were a few people on the ice; a few kids, a few teens, and a couple of adults. She lazed about the rink in a circle with the rest of the pack.

 _This is probably one of the best days in my life!_ She grinned and twirled around in a circle.

 _I talked to Adrien and he actually knew who I was!_

A squeal interrupted her thoughts. A little girl was skating straight into the tree. Marinette raced over to her and grabbed her arm just as a boy grabbed the other arm. They lifted her up and somehow managed to coordinate their moves so they didn't pull her apart. The itchy false branches scratched Marinette's back.

"Whoa, little miss!" the boy said.

The girl was oblivious to what just happened and squealed in delight. "I'm flying!"

The boy raised his brows and grinned. "Shall we?"

"Let's do it!" They each grabbed ahold of her and held her parallel to the ice and raced around the rink.

"I'm Wonder Woman!" she screamed. "Mama! Look!"

The boy's movements were precise, as though he practiced just as much as she did. He wore a blue beanie hat that covered up most of his head and thick black glasses took up most of his face. He looked rather dorky, to be honest, but nothing about his face seemed familiar. The world of high-level competitive skating was so small she knew everyone by a glance and had known them or at least, of them, for years. It was too bad. If he had started younger and worked as hard as she did, he probably would also be a T&L student.

They didn't really have to communicate their moves much, they just naturally fell in line with each other to the point it seemed choreographed. Not that it was complex, but weaving around the other skaters took effort on both their parts.

When they were done they set the girl down and she hugged both of their legs.

An older woman in a stylish green coat skated to them. "Thank you for helping my girl," she said.

"Mama! Did you see me fly?"

"I did!"

The girl took her mom's hand and they skated off.

Marinette and the boy moved back into the outer circle of the pack. "You're a pretty good skater."

"So are you."

"Thanks!" As a plus, he didn't seem to recognize her. That was a good thing. She didn't want to deal with another fan like the girl at the front. It was too embarrassing.

"Do you come here often?" the boy asked.

"I just started at - I just started university here so I just learned they were open today."

"Oh really? Which one?"

If she said T&L he would know immediately she was a skater. "Lille Opera Academia," she lied. "What about you?"

"Born and raised here."

"Oh, wow! I like it here." Very good choice on the lie. If he was born and raised here the moment she said T&L he would catch her in her lie, and then she would have to explain why she lied, and it would just end up more awkward than she ever wanted to deal with. They probably wouldn't see each other after today anyway. "It's not a bad place to live. I might even stay after I graduate."

"I travel so much I rarely get to see it."

"Really? What do you do?"

"Business. Boring stuff, really." He skated in front of her and began skating backward. "So, my name is Guy."

"I'm Marinette."

"Marinette? That name is as cute as you."

She laughed. "That's such a bad pickup line."

"At least I made you laugh! That gets me points, right?"

"Minus three for the landing."

He mimed getting shot in the heart. "You're a harsh judge!"

"Plus three for effort?" she amended with a shrug. The music changed to Jagged Stone's _Love Haze_. "I love this song!"

Guy held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

"On the ice?"

"You can do it. You're no amateur."

 _In more ways than one._ "I don't know; it seems hard..."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. "I'll lead."

She danced plenty of times with Luka, but Guy's felt entirely different. Luka was considerate and seemed to push and pull with his dominance. Guy took control to the point where she couldn't tell if she danced with him or he put her under his spell. He was definitely talented; some of the footwork they did reminded her of the ones in her programs and he performed them like a natural.

Plus, his arms were strong, far stronger than he looked. He must either be a gym rat or his business was in CrossFit. His cheeks had a slight flush to them and she couldn't help but match his big smile.

"Gorgeous and a great dancer," he complimented. "You've never ice danced before?"

"N-nope!"

"You're a natural."

"I sucked at my footwork so," she stopped abruptly, she was about to talk about skating. "I worked hard improving it."

"Ah," he said, extending his arm. She instinctively twirled herself out.

 _Ah! I'm supposed to be an amateur!_ She forced herself to fall.

"Are you okay?" Guy called as he rushed to her side.

"I'm fine," she said as she got up. "What's a skater without a thousand falls?"

"Tell me about it!" He laughed. "How about I make up for it with some coffee? It's almost time for the rink to close."

"It is?" Marinette checked the clock. It was already close to nine. She groaned. "I have practice at five."

"You start your days early."

"I'm a night owl ever doomed to wake up early."

"Coffee tomorrow?"

Whoa, she was so caught up in the dancing she forgot that she had no intention of seeing him again. Lying wasn't her forte and she would slip up sooner or later. "I can't."

He seemed crestfallen and her heart ached with guilt.

"After tomorrow, I don't have a free day until next Thursday."

He seemed to have a puppy-like look to him, cloying and irresistible. She wrenched her hands together. It was a bad idea. A really, really, bad idea. "We can do that."

"What's your number?"

The moment Marinette finished giving her number she realized that her social media profiles were saturated in skating material and every single network she was on had a "You might know" feature based off cell numbers programmed into the phone.

"Are you okay? You seem pale."

"I'm fine!" She exclaimed a little too loudly. _Everything. Private. Right after I leave._

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"I sent you a text. See you Thursday?"

"Yeap!" She skated off the ice and managed to turn in the skates only after promising she would come back as often as possible.

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

As she settled into bed to sleep, her phone beeped.

Adrien updated Instagram with a silver cup of coffee on his balcony. "Nothing like a hot cuppa on a starry night."

"I wish I was there." She sighed and double tapped.

The text from Guy was still in her notification list. "This is Guy. Nice meeting you, Marinette! I'll be counting the days until I see you again."

Guy was sweet, but she needed to let him know on Thursday she wasn't interested in a relationship. She shouldn't have taken his number to start, but there was something about the magic of their dance that clouded her better judgment.

For now, the only relationship she needed was with a quadruple Salchow.

* * *

A/N: The setting has been changed from France to America, simply because it's easier to find information about the road to Olympic glory from American athletes. To compensate, the fictional town of Lille is a city that has a French ancestry and will have touches of French influence everywhere. It's the only way I could somehow get that unique Paris flavor of the original story and keep the fanfic somewhat grounded in reality and what I know (though I would love to live in France to learn more about cultural norms that I can incorporate in writing, alas, I am not rich).

I hope you forgive what I may get wrong, I've tried to research as much as I can about figure skating and dance, but mistakes will always be made. Feel free to comment and correct my mistakes anytime.

I did much of this on a phone, I tried to account for autocorrect mistakes, I apologize for those that got through.

much love,  
marvelous chat


	2. Chapter 2

Adrien didn't quite understand Marinette. When he first met her, she was a shy, awkward, and cute in a sort of sweet way. But when he met her again, she lied about her name, her school, and her attitude completely changed.

She didn't recognize him, either.

It wasn't like he changed his look too much; a hat, color contacts, and a pair of glasses. Was that all it took to make him unrecognizable? Was that a compliment or an insult?

No other skater from T&L went to the local ice rink. Sometimes it was empty enough to get a little extra work in, but most of the time it wasn't. It was only good for the equivalent of a walk around a park. Thinking on the ice felt natural. He needed all the time he could get before New York Fashion Week. Talk about hell on earth. Instead of carefully balancing modeling and skating, it became a whirlwind only managed by putting his mind and body on autopilot and becoming a robot. Go there. Do this. Smile here. Put this on. Eat that.

When he entered the training building, he saw Marinette just ahead of him, dashing to the locker room. "Mar-" he began, but stopped himself. What would he even say to her? _Good morning, I lied about yesterday and I want to start over, if that's okay?_

She lied too. He didn't know who she was trying to fool either - no amateur would be able to dance like that on the ice on first try. But he played her game and gave her a different name, acted like a different person, and all but regretted it the moment he got home.

He had more fun with her in those brief moments on the ice than he had in years. Now he couldn't capitalize on it and talk to her at school without revealing that he also lied. He should come clean when they met for coffee. Try to make a joke out of it.

Would she laugh?

"Morning, Nino," he greeted as he walked into the locker room.

"'Sup?"

Adrien yawned. "Same old."

"It's our ice day, at least."

"I'm looking forward to falling a thousand times or listening to Coach D'Argencourt insist I landed on the inside instead of the outside blade." He stretched. "I'm the one landing, I know which side I'm on!"

Nino started lacing his skates. "I feel ya."

"Hey, do you think a pair of glasses changes a person?"

Nino arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Like, when you wear your glasses, do people not recognize you?"

"They say I look different, but they still know who I am."

Adrien frowned. "Is that so?" he mumbled.

"Why?"

"Just wondering. Thinking about taking up a disguise."

Nino laughed. "Just do sunglasses and a baseball hat like all the other celebrities."

Maybe it would be better to ask Chloé about it. Was she filming right now? Those producer sharks would smell the storyline a mile away. Lying to a fellow skater in a world smaller than the smallest of small towns was bad enough, let alone having it broadcast to the entire world.

The locker door opened. "Boys, you have one minute to get onto the ice before I make you do burpees as punishment."

"Yes, sir!" both said in unison. The door closed.

"Get your skates on," Nino hissed.

"On it!"

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

"I've watched your last competition several times. Your form during your quad was bad. You stumbled the landing, but it was because you didn't have proper form in the air," Coach Bustier explained as she tied Marinette into the jumping harness. "Your triples also need work as well. We're going to do jump drills."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Marinette had only ever worked with a jump harness on the ice. T&L actually had one that was hooked to a pulley on the ceiling. Her last coach wasn't fond of them. Said it lead to handicaps that would cripple her during competitions. His strict insistence on them being horrible made her stomach churn in reflex when Coach Bustier started tying her in.

"The enemy of jumps is friction. You'd think it'd be gravity, but you are wrong. Women have it tougher," she patted her chest, "Because we naturally create more drag than men. That is why quads are a standard in male competition and not in female." She crossed her arms and raised a brow. "But you're not going to let that stop you." She tugged on the harness to ensure it was tight. "We are going to focus on your arm position. I'm going to have you try several jumps with your arms in different positions. I'm going to see which one works best for your build." She pantomimed her arms crossing with the right over the left, elbows parallel to her hipbones. "On three, do a triple."

Marinette jumped.

Coach Bustier clicked her tongue. "Wrong!"

Marinette blinked. Her tone changed and her voice was stern, not sweet. She swallowed.

"Again!"

Marinette jumped.

"Again!"

She followed orders. Coach Bustier tugged on the pulley and there was an audible click as it locked into place. Coach Bustier pulled Marinette's arms closer to her side. "Feel it." She pushed her in a circle. "Know it." She unlocked the pulley. "Do it."

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

"Ayla," Marinette whined, "I want to die."

"Surely not."

"Coach Bustier is so tough! You only think she's sweet and then BAM! Mr. Hyde comes out and she makes you jump a hundred different ways." Marinette collapsed on her bed. "Do you know how hard plyometric workouts are?"

"I tried Insanity once, does that count?"

Marinette groaned and hugged a pillow. "My thighs are so sore."

"Go get a massage."

"You come here and give me a massage."

"I can, but I demand an interview with Adrien for my blog as payment."

Marinette pouted and grunted a response.

"Did you talk to him today?"

"No," Marinette sighed. "I don't even have the strength to go to the cafeteria for dinner."

"GO EAT!"

Marinette held the phone away from her ear as Ayla lectured her on eating a proper diet. Ayla would be a good manager or coach if her blog didn't work out. She was on top of every little detail effortlessly.

"Okay, okay," Marinette interrupted. "You win. I'll go eat."

"I can't believe I even have to tell you. You're an athlete! You need to be eating your weight in food daily!"

"I know, I know." Every single fiber of muscle in her thighs burned. She walked like a sumo wrestler to her closet. "Do I wear the sweatpants or the sweatpants?"

"Put on something cute. What if Adrien is there?"

"He doesn't live in the dorms," she replied. "He probably has a personal chef."

"So put on something cute anyway."

Being cute took so much _effort_. Effort required thighs that didn't scream in agony every time she took a step.

 _I'll be happy if I can even put on a pair of pants._

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

The cafeteria held only a scant hundred people comfortably, and it seemed like double were currently in it. Marinette couldn't find a single familiar face in the sea of students. Why did she suffer through Ayla's advice, again?

She scanned her card at the front kiosk. They weren't allowed to pick their own meals. T&L considered food as part of their training regimen and their meals were personally planned by a nutritionist. It sounded cool, but some days required a greasy slice of pizza and there was no pizza override button. She took her order number receipt and stood against the wall, waiting for her number to come up on the screen.

Her phone beeped.

Luka: Hey, working on a song

Luka: Thoughts?

She tapped play and held the phone up to her ear. The din of the cafeteria faded as she became enveloped in the somber song. Luka's soft voice spelled her into breathlessness. In velvet tones, the loneliness of being in love with someone who never would reciprocate spoke to her heart.

The chorus lingered long after the song ended. _Starlit eyes and stormy skies/shock submission into sweet demise_

A chill went through her, electrifying her toes. She wanted to skate, no, she needed to skate! A quadruple salchow fell perfectly in time with the last line. It would force her to succeed. If she fell the irony of it would humiliate her the rest of her life.

"Luka!" she gushed as soon as he picked up the phone. "That was amazing!"

The line went silent for a heartbeat. "Was it?"

"I want to use that song for my free skate."

He sucked in a breath. "But it's not done yet."

"I know, but it's perfect! Please!"

"When do you need it?"

"The next competition isn't until November but as soon as you can so I can run it by my coach."

"Are you sure you don't want something popular? You used a Jagged Stone song last time. That was pretty cool."

"I want this song. You know how when you hear something and you get that feeling? How it compels you to dance?"

She barely heard what he said next. "My song did that to you?"

"Yeah," she replied, mirroring his tone. "It did."

The soft thud of her heartbeat drowned out the crowd around her. She leaned against the wall, knees weak. Miles apart, connected only by a signal, yet it seemed like he was right next to her.

The words danced inside her mouth, itching to come forth. _Who is the song about?_ Luka never spoke much about his private life, and though she never thought to inquire before, the intensity in the song created a sensation inside her stomach, flipping it all sorts of ways, spawning all sorts of questions and desires. What did she look like? Was she like him, or was she the opposite? If she was a ballet dancer, she was probably pretty, and tall, with a slender figure and effortless grace.

She envied that about them. Even on the ice, she felt like a stumbling oaf, all power and punch but none of the grace and elegance. Her coach back home even said she would have been a better male skater than female. Misogynistic jerk. But the words persisted in the back of her mind, engraved dead center on the wall of her doubts.

"I'll finish it as soon as I can," he finally said, words somehow sounding promising and empty at the same time. Her gut told her something bothered him, but she had no proof. Maybe it was just leftover feelings from the song. She read too much into it.

"I can't wait!" Somehow the extra cheerfulness she tried to put into her voice made it sound fake. She should have dialed it down, or even said something like 'Thanks!' or 'Take your time!' He mirrored her false enthusiasm in his goodbye.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, but the line clicked dead. She held the phone in her hand, thumb hovering over the call button. She hit it. The moment the screen changed to it connecting, she hit the cancel button.

Exhaustion made her see things when there wasn't anything there. No need to make things awkward between them. Especially since she had dance tomorrow. If he still seemed the same, she'd ask him then.

Her number popped up onscreen. She should have taken the food to go.

As she ate, food tasting bland despite not being bland any other day she ate, a single question permeated her thoughts. How beautiful were her eyes that he saw the universe in them?

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

 **Guy:** Still on for tonight?

Marinette had an out. All she had to do was reply no. She could even include some sort of flimsy excuse like something came up and she couldn't make it. Simple and clean.

Why did she hesitate?

She stared at the text, keyboard open. Autocorrect already suggested a few replies. "Of course!" "Sorry!" and "I will be late!"

She did put effort into her clothes this time. A pair of pink capris, a white camisole, and a black jacket. Not wearing athletic clothes fell into the category of "dressing up", considering 75% of her life revolved around exercise.

It would be a waste to not go.

 _Maybe I can ask Ayla?_ But she hadn't told Ayla about Guy or anything about that evening. And she would have to explain the lie. Ayla would have a few cents to pitch in and she already knew what she would say and think.

Maybe she could come clean. Tell him from the beginning she lied. Play it like a joke.

Yeah, sure, what a hilarious joke. He'd probably be even more upset that she tried to play deceit off as nothing.

That's why it would be easy to just reply no.

So much easier.

She hit "Of course!" and sent it.

 **≿—- ❈ —-≾**

Adrien wore the same disguise. He justified it to himself as being helpful to Marinette. She wouldn't recognize him as Guy if he appeared like Adrien. And then he could remove the glasses and hat and explain that he dressed like that so he wouldn't be recognized by the general public and hoped she would understand.

"Guy?"

He turned around.

Marinette waved. "Hey."

"Wow, you look great!"

She raised a brow and laughed his compliment off. "It's nothing special."

"You're something special."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile proved it didn't actually annoy her. He put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the line. "What do you want?"

"I can get it."

"I insist."

"White chocolate mocha is fine."

"Okay."

The clerk at the front smiled as he approached. "Hey, A-"

"Hi, Larissa!" he interrupted. "How's it going?"

"Same old. The usual?"

"Yeah. And a white chocolate mocha for the lady."

"And a white chocolate mocha for the lady," she repeated, enunciating each syllable as she tapped on the screen. "That'll be 7.50."

That was close. If Marinette heard her say his real name things really would have gotten complicated. "Let's go sit over there," he suggested, pointing to the table beside the window. "It's my favorite spot."

"I take it you come here often?"

"Yeah. Best coffee I've ever had."

"Really? Did you say you traveled for work? Better than all the places you've been?"

"There's just something about this place that makes it special. Even though I've bought the coffee to make at home, it never tastes the same." He took care to pull out her chair before sitting down. "How was your week?"

"It's been okay. Coach B- my dance coach worked me pretty hard. Today was the first day I could walk normally. It was horrible! I looked like a sumo wrestler!"

He burst into laughter. "That must've been a sight."

"It was something, all right," she muttered. "What about you?"

"I've had a rough go of it too." He hesitated. He could come clean here, but maybe if he waited a bit, for her to _really_ like him, it would go over better. "I've had some fierce deadlines I need to meet. If it wasn't for this," he lifted his cup like he toasted her, "I'd suffer."

"Caffeine addict, got it." Marinette winked and took a sip of her mocha. Her brows arched. "This is good!"

"Told ya." He wanted to drink up every little move she made. Her nose wrinkled when she laughed. She tapped her pinky finger against the paper cup when she talked. She also had a self-confidence he didn't see on the rink at all. "If you could wake up an expert at something, what would it be?"

"Hmm..." she tapped her cheekbone and pursed her lips. "Jumping, I guess."

"Jumping? What kind of jumping?" How would she dance around this question? The way she answered questions without actually answering them amused him rather than annoyed him. Maybe because he knew the actual truth behind it? When other celebs, especially Chloé's circle did it, he felt like he was the only one not in on the joke; that they mocked him with their half answers and coy comments.

"When some people jump, they look like they fly. I want to do that too."

"I never thought about it that way."

"Really? I feel like that when I jump. Landing is another story though." She groaned. "Just a little bit off ruins your entire score."

"Right? And then your coach always finds a way to make you seem like the biggest idiot because you landed on the wrong edge."

As soon as the words left his mouth he swallowed and stared at her, waiting for her to ask about it. But she didn't say anything, or rather, didn't look like she noticed. Instead, she took a small sip of her drink and rested her chin on her hand.

Was she bored?

"You're a pretty good skater. Do you skate often?" she asked.

He cringed. She did notice. Now she had to be testing her theory. His hand was caught in the cookie jar and no sugared words would wiggle out of it. He grasped at straws, but decided to try that half-answer thing that she was so adept at. "Whenever I can. It clears my head better than walking."

"Oh, so that's why," she mumbled. "Did you ever compete?"

"When I was a kid I tried. Didn't get very far."

"Horrible parents? Or lack of interest?"

"Horrible parent."

"I'm sorry. My parents aren't too hands-on when it comes to my competitions. If I suddenly decided one day I didn't want to do it anymore, they would support me 100%."

"Lucky," he replied with a deep sigh. "My father is strict. If he commands it, I do it. And of course, I can't be a failure."

"That's a lot of pressure. How did you manage in college?"

 _She doesn't think I'm a student?_ He kept the gasp in his chest. No, wait, he mentioned doing business, of course, she thought he was older than her. How much older than her? What would be a reasonable age? Twenty?

"At first the freedom was great, but when I had one bad semester I lost the freedom I had. It helped though," he shrugged, "The working world is similar."

"What do you do, exactly?"

 _Why did she ask that?_ It was more of his fault for not coming up with a complete story before coming here. No, it was his fault for not telling the truth in the first place. "Fashion." It wasn't too far from the truth. He did work as a model, after all.

"Oh?" she perked up. "What part?"

"Design," he lied, again, though his father was a designer, so he could probably still work with the lie. He knew enough about the behind-the-scenes stuff to play the part.

"Really? Do you think you could design a performance outfit for me?"

At this precise moment, he realized just exactly the depth of his lie and how deep the rabbit hole went. If only there was a way to magic up a big black hole for him to crawl into and disappear. Poof! Gone!

"What kind of performance outfit?" he egged on, trying to sound confident.

Now she seemed like she squirmed. She giggled and looped a lock of hair around her finger. "I guess I should have asked if you even design that type of stuff."

Lucky! She gave him an out because it would expose her own lie!

He draped his arm over the back of the chair. "I design high-end couture stuff. Chloé Bourgeois is one of my clients, do you know her?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I know of her, can't say we're part of the same social circle."

Once this was over, and they could possibly continue as a _maybe-couple_ , he would have to take care in how she and Chloé met. Chloé wasn't exactly easy to get along with on a good day, and Marinette obviously could hold her own and then some against any barbs Chloé threw at her. "Even I'm a slave to Chloé," he joked. She didn't laugh. He cringed.

"So sports stuff is beneath you."

"No, not at all!"

She shook her head. "That's okay! I don't want you going out of your comfort zone."

"For you, I want to try."

"Don't go out of your way," she amended.

He drummed his fingers on the table. _Nice save!_ She seemed into him despite his foibles. It could work. He would ask this question, and when she answered, he could unmask himself and say "Surprise!" and then they could laugh and start all over. "What celebrity have people said you look like?"

"This is so silly, but Ladybug."

"Ladybug?"

"Maybe you don't remember her. She was the lead on a popular superhero show when I was a kid."

He cocked his head to the side and stared. She did have a button nose and large, round eyes. "I can see it."

"I used to have everything Ladybug. My room, my clothes, even my school supplies." Her cheeks were tinged pink. "It was my childhood. I always wanted to be like her. I've even thought about doing a routine based around her, but we're in an Ol- a big competition year so there's no time for fun routines."

"That sucks. It would be cute."

"I don't think many people know who she is nowadays though."

He shrugged. "Do it anyway."

She giggled. "Right. What about you? Do you get mistaken for anyone on the street?"

"Adrien Agreste."

Her brows furrowed and she leaned forward. "Hmm... I don't really see it."

His jaw dropped. "Really? You don't see it?"

"Not really." She shook her head and leaned back into the table. "I can't pinpoint anyone else you might look like though."

 _I am Adrien Agreste!_ Absurd! Preposterous! How could she not see Adrien Agreste in him? He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know how to react. His plan didn't just fail, it blew up into smithereens and nothing short of hitting a reset button and starting this entire date all over again would save it.

Sometime during his mind being blown, she found something behind them to stare at. He followed her gaze. There was a tall guy at the counter, clad in a leather jacket and dark jeans. The tips of his hair were dyed a cerulean blue. Was she looking at him? Why would she know a guy like that?

The guy looked over and he seemed to recognize her. She looked down at the table, biting her lip.

What was going on? Who was that guy and why did she react that way? Was it a stalker? He balled his hands into fists. He could take care of that for her.

"Marinette," the guy greeted as he approached the table.

She looked up to him and obviously forced a smile. "Luka?" Her voice seemed apprehensive but her cheeks were slightly flushed.

Flushed in the same way he saw them when he met her as Adrien. Awkward and sweet. That confident persona he spoke with vanished.

"This is Guy," she said, gesturing to Adrien. "A friend."

A friend. That hurt. His chest tightened. Nightmares would be an upgrade.

Luka met his gaze. His brows furrowed before he looked at Marinette, then back at him. He cocked his head to the side and Adrien could see him mouth _really?_ before he held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Adrien took it and as they shook, all he could think about were all his opportunities to come clean during their conversation, and how he didn't.

There was no way to confirm it, and he didn't even know how he could say for certain, but Luka knew he was Adrien.


End file.
